


Cousins

by Sadsnail



Series: Dumbledore Insert [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: De-Aged, Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Slice of Life, holiday fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadsnail/pseuds/Sadsnail
Summary: Inserted into Dumbledore and de-aged to a four-year-old child, SI decides to fix it all. Snape is there, playing hapless father to the little eager beaver.— De-aged Albus is on vacation with brand new cousins. And Charlotte.
Series: Dumbledore Insert [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579501
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a scene from The Wouldbegoods - Being the further adventured of the Treasure Seekers By E. Nesbit. Enjoy!

“Was there any point during your game where you stopped and realised you were doing wrong?” Bat Dad asked me and cast a nonverbal spell on the pink flamingo. Its feathers dried out and puffed up to its original state. Which had been not so great really, considering it was dead. Well perhaps they were less dusty. I wanted to ask him what the spell was but his frown was enough to make me concentrate on his question.

“None,” I admitted, and he stopped what he was doing to turn to me with raised eyebrows. “Well I knew parts of it were maybe not so good… and that you might not like it… but that doesn’t necessarily make it wrong? Adults tend to not like a lot of things kids do. If we did only what you wanted we would be studying the whole day every day and, I don’t know, be a lot cleaner.” I scratched my arm and crusty mud flaked off, joining the others I had already flaked off from my face on the muddy grass. Dad’s face was doing something strange and behind him, Uncle Alain stopped trying to teach Charlotte how to dry out the dead platypus, to look at me and shake his head in wonderment. He had probably never thought of it like that and I was glad I could help him. I smiled at him.

It occurs to me that I might be telling this all backwards and that you would rather hear it from the beginning. That seems a bit boring but I will try. This is what happened:

Last year we had our Christmas holiday in school because it was Dad’s turn so this year we could go to our family on Dad’s mother’s side. That sounds like a mouthful but I don’t call her grandma because she was dead. I never met her, and Dad said it was not a big loss. I had other grandma’s enough, there was Grandma Poppy and Granny Molly, both who adopted me all but officially. They couldn’t officially because Dad had already done so and once is the limit, more is greedy.

Anyway. Besides them I had a lot of aunts and uncles and the family was big enough that when they all decided to get together we went to whoever had the biggest house available that year. This year Christmas was going to be held at Uncle Pat’s farm in France. 

Uncle Pat was as British as you could get, a retired colonel in the army — which was not something normal wizards did — and he walked around in khakis and a sun helmet, carrying a walking stick. All he needed was a musket. I say musket because he had been in the Second Boer War according to him, he still remembered when the rest of the world were all our colonies, and he was as old as dust. He had been briefly married to a Prince girl, no one had ever told me her name, she begat him two sons and then absconded to Italy with the more refined Muggle-Born gardener, leaving them all behind. All that was old history, his sons had adult children themselves and he had great-grandchildren by now. His wife never came to these get-togethers if he was going to be there so I never knew which one of my aunts she was, and Dad sadly did not gossip. 

Dad and I were one of the firsts to pitch up. Uncle Pat exclaimed how much I had grown since the last time he saw me and I proudly told him I was nine, going on ten and reminded him he had seen me two years ago so there was probably no need to be so surprised that I had grown. He scrubbed my hair into a mess and called me a cheeky little blighter in need of a good seeing to and sent me off to the nursery to be with the other children.

Going to the nursery was no hardship. I couldn’t wait to see my cousins. Adults were certainly boring and my cousins were always good for some games. Luckily we had been here before and I was able to find my way without getting lost, for Uncle Pat’s house was enormous; the nursery had enough toys to entertain us for the two weeks if it rained every day and took up half of the third floor.

I had many cousins of all ages and for a long time I had been the youngest except for some babies, but those who had been babies when I joined the family were now ready to be played with five-year-olds, and fun. Besides for them I had quite a few teenage cousins all going to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic so I only saw them on holidays but they were not averse to letting me tag along when I asked. And then there was Charlotte. Whose face was the first one I saw when I opened the nursery door. 

Charlotte was a year or so older than me and was starting school next year. To hear her talk she had started already. She would have been a great playmate for she had a good imagination, if not for the fact that she was also a bully. Or had been. Supposedly she was done with it all now after some therapy and professional help to settle into her Veela nature. Or so she told me in her last letter. Apparently Veela children were more emotional, easily angered, and lots of other nonsense that no one would have excused if it had been me that did it. 

“Albus! I’m so happy you’re here, come meet our new cousins,” she said, jumping up to fetch me from where I had stalled in the door at the sight of her, and dragging me over to the two kids she had been sitting with. Despite my growth she was still taller than me and her tendency to drag me wherever she wanted had only worsened over the years. “This is Jane and her brother Jacques.”

They were… pale. I don’t know how to describe them except for the fact that they looked like watered down versions of what children were supposed to be. Both had blonde hair and blue eyes, and you could easily see the family resemblance, but that was the best of them. They were thin, their skin was sickly pale, and someone had forced them to dress in their Sunday best, the boy in a cream coloured suit and the girl in a pastel pink flowery dress that made her look like a cake. I say forced because no kid in their right mind would dress like that willingly.

“Jack,” the boy corrected Charlotte. 

“You’re a bit old to be new cousins,” I told him. “They’re usually babies, how old are you?”

“I am eight and Jane is seven,” the boy told me in a quiet voice while Charlotte jabbered something about their mum marrying into the family, that they had been poor half-orphans before, and held his hand out. “How do you do?”

It took me a moment to realise I was supposed to shake it. Dad would adore him.

“They are your age, Albus!” Charlotte exclaimed while we shook with limp hands: him because I doubted he had the strength for a firm grip, me because I didn’t want to break him. “Now you won’t feel so alone when I am in school, off learning everything about—”

“I'm nine, going on ten, and I’ve been in school since I was four, I probably know more than you.” I dug into my pocket and brought forth a galleon, handing it over. “Same rate or I tell.”

“We must consider inflation and—”

“No. Have you extorted them yet?”

“Oh, I cannot extort them, I’ve stopped bullying, remember? Properly this time.”

“Then give me back my galleon, Charlotte!”

“You’re the exception, little Albus. Oh, we are going to have so much fun with our new cousins! Finally someone our— your age. What will we play first?”

“Quidditch.” Charlotte liked flying, I didn’t mind it anymore, and Uncle Pat’s fields were extensive. He had orchards and farmlands, greenhouses and a big pond, and around the house were huge gardens, front and back, the best place for playing. No Muggles within miles.

It was not to be. Neither of them had ever played quidditch, in fact they had never been on a broom. When I suggested that now was a good time to learn they said their mother wouldn’t like it. 

Charlotte suggested hide and seek. They refused. Jack was supposed to stay away from dust — and it was true, the house was very dusty, uncle Pat’s house-elves had a lot to do and could never get to everything, the house was filled with stuff, he collected a lot of things in his travels as an army colonel — and besides that they were not allowed to run around. 

It turns out they did not just look sickly, they also were. They easily caught colds, so fishing in the pond was out. Jack proudly told of the time he had mumbling mumps on top of dragon pox and Jane said nothing at all. She just sat there quietly while her brother did all the talking for them in his soft voice.

I was all for leaving them to play by themselves while Charlotte and I went outside, but Charlotte said that as older members of the family we had to welcome the new ones. We had to take care of them and make sure they had a good time. Turns out later that her mum had said this to her and I wasn’t included in the order, but when Charlotte spoke I tended to do what she said. 

The nursery had a lot of games, muggle and magical, and even so it was more ‘no’s and we’re not allowed’ than anything else. Jane didn’t speak, so any games with shouting were out, she also got tired quickly and that cancelled any games where you stood, walked, or ran about, leaving us to find something where you needed to sit. We ended up watching the telly. 

There was no television in Hogwarts so I was fine with it for now but I couldn’t see myself doing it for the whole holiday. Outside the sun beckoned while we watched The Jungle Book. Then we had lunch in the kitchen while the adults ate in the dining room. Both Jack and Jane washed up for lunch, even though they had barely moved a finger and it was just us. Then we went back to the nursery and watched Jumanji. 

By that time I had a headache from staring at Uncle Pat’s small television, and I took a nap in the window seat, gazing longingly at the sunny fields outside until I fell asleep. When I woke, I saw Jack and Jane had followed my example, and Charlotte was sitting in a rocking chair reading and looking cross. 

“This can’t go on, Albus,” she said. “I need sun, fresh air, the wind carefully ruffling my hair. Being inside is not good for the complexion.”

“As horrible as it is to say this: I agree.”


	2. Chapter 2

The new cousins woke up from our voices, and Charlotte and I couldn’t make any plans right there and then. We were back to entertaining. Jane liked Monopoly. The Princes were not averse to Muggle stuff, and with a bit of a search, we unearthed a dusty box from under a heap of games. Charlotte and I sat far away in a corner and carefully wiped all the dust off each tiny little piece with Jack and Jane’s wet hankies, and we were playing that when Dad came to check on us. I mouthed ‘HELP’ to him, but Jack introduced himself at that moment, holding out his polite but weak hand, and Bat Dad was so distracted by his manners that he did not see me.

“You can’t have him,” I told Bat Dad. “He’s not a half-orphan anymore, his mum already married.”

“What are you on about, Albus?”

“Nothing.”

“Behave then.”

“I am. Want to come and play Monopoly with us?”

“What’s that?”

I told him.

“No, thank you.”

He left, and I think I heard him laughing outside.

Dinner was the same affair, and by the time we were sent to bed, I realised we had not gone outside once. It was August and the days were longer, the sun didn’t set at my usual bedtime, and in this family get-togethers Dad mostly let me do as the other kids. Which was roaming outside at all hours and staying up until you fell asleep in a field and an older cousin carried you home.

There were apricots — my favourite — in the orchards, and all kinds of berries to find in the fields. I had been looking forward to eating and exploring and generally running wild. The only wild thing that happened today was finding out Charlotte should not be the banker, as she cheats. It had made Jane cry.

Jack was sharing a room with me, and Jane with Charlotte, and when the rest of the family came there would be more kids bunking together, for there never were enough rooms, only the adults got their privacy. Charlotte usually moaned at these times that she would like to be an adult already, but I was fine with it. With not being an adult and with sharing.

We still needed to make a plan, though, and waited until 9 o’clock when both cousins were asleep before we met up outside our rooms on the roof; we were supposed to be sleeping also, so we figured it was safer than inside. Uncle Pat’s house was old and had been added to over the years much like they did at the Burrow, the roof was full of chimneys and towers, oddly jutting turrets, and decorative edges. Some of the slopes were quite steep, but we made do, sitting on the little flat space between our dormer windows.

“Jane needed help with her bath!” Charlotte hissed when she joined me. “She can't even undo the buttons of her dress, why have a button dress when you can’t manage them yourself!”

“Jack asked me to read to him.”

“And did you?”

“No. His mum came and did it, I pretended to be asleep. What are we going to do with them? Why are we even bothering? We can just leave them to play inside while we do our own thing out.”

“We can’t.”

“Of course we can.”

“I promised Maman I would look after them. I can’t leave them alone, and you need to help me.”

I didn’t actually need to help her. I could go off on my own if I wanted, and I considered it for a moment. But going alone was something I did most of the year — babysitters didn’t count — and was not so much fun when you had family around to do things with. And it was also better for me to let her think I was doing her a favour than have her force me anyway. “Okay, fine, but we need to do something with them, this cannot go on.”

“We can prank them. Put worms in their salad or bugs in their bed.”

“Dad doesn’t like pranks.” He had horrible long-lasting punishments for any student he caught doing that, and I would not survive to become a ten year old if I suddenly started pranking kids. “What will that help anyway?”

“It's fun—”

I scoffed. “You’re thinking like the old Charlotte. If pranking is only fun for the one doing it then it’s only a different form of bullying,”—That was a direct quote from Bat Dad — “and I don’t think they’re the type to like bugs.” They’d probably be allergic.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“We have to teach them how to play, perhaps an easy game outside to begin with in the garden tomorrow, and we can advance them to the fields the day after.”

The window next to me opened, and Dad poked his head out. “Would you two care to come in?”

* * *

The morning started off good. The adults were off to the Hippogriff races. Hippogriff races were very similar to the Muggle’s horse races and held nearly as frequently in France, except for the fact that they could fly, that the jockeys were sometimes eaten, and that they were held in a secret venue, warded from Muggles. It was too dangerous for kids to attend. Children under eleven were not allowed, and we were to be left in the care of the house-elves. Uncle Pat was swinging his cane about, telling everybody how much galleons he had won the previous year and that it would do them well to listen to him if they tried their hand at any gambling.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, and it was fun seeing Dad in his formal robes. Charlotte’s and our cousins’ mums were fluttering about in search of gloves and adjusting the placement of each other’s hats. For me it looked like they were meringues wearing alien spaceships on their heads, but both Charlotte and Jane were in awe, so it was probably a girl thing. It was a whole event, and we wouldn’t see them until dinner.

“What’s your plans today, Albus?” Dad asked.

“We’re going to play with Jack and Jane in the garden.”

I watched him try and fail to find fault with that, and he promised to bring us a treat from out if we behaved.

That didn’t make much sense. “If you bought it already, then what would you do if we didn’t behave? It would be a waste of money to not give it at all. So you will give it later? That means we’re going to get it anyway, it’s just a matter of time, so best to give it while it’s fresh — if it’s food — whether we behaved or not.”

“If you did not behave, then I would eat it in front of you.”

“You don’t like sugar.”

“It might not be sugary.”

“Then why call it a treat?”

“Severus,” Aunt Louisette interrupted. “As much fun as it is to listen to the two of you, we need to get going, or we will be late.”

“There’s a time to this thing?”

“If you want to make an entrance, yes. I did not get dressed for slinking in while everybody is looking at the sky.”

And then we were alone.

* * *

“Today we will be playing in the garden,” we told the brother and sister. We thought it best to tell them and not ask. Asking these two anything took way too long. So we made it a declaration.

If only that was the end.

“What game?” Jack asked.

“We have not decided yet,” I said.

“But we will go outside first and decide there,” Charlotte quickly added, seeing a gap they could take advantage of and blocking them at the start.

“What if it’s too hot?”

“Then we will play under the trees where it is shady,” I said.

“There are bugs under the trees,” Jack said, and Jane shuddered delicately, her face growing even paler. I gave Charlotte an 'I told you so’ look.

“We have a charmed picnic rug that won’t let any bug crawl on it,” Charlotte said. “Maman always packs it.”

“And we can bring pillows if it’s too hard,” I added, “and the mosquito netting from your bed and make it a bug-free tent.” We had charms for mosquitoes, but Jack’s mum was still worried it might fail, and I had watched her put netting over Jack’s bed as extra insurance the previous night. I figured she was Muggle-Born, other wizards and witches tended to trust magic implicitly. A tent sounded good anyway, and I was getting the idea of a plan. I didn’t want to say it in front of them, though, in case they would say no.

The front garden was gravel and tiny hedges around flower beds, all arranged in geometric patterns, but the back was a sunny space with wildflowers and herbs; rockeries, overgrown hedges, lawns with trees; messy shrubs and berries; and a vegetable garden. You immediately felt excited when you entered it. At least Charlotte and I did.

We ignored the cousins’ hesitation and made a couple of trips in and out of the house, until we had a perfect spot for them to sit in the shade of an old oak, behind some big shrubs that worked for a windbreak. And then I let Charlotte pull them there since she was the expert in that.

We still had to make a plan, so we told them to sit and rest while we decided what to do. We gave them books to read and, with my idea in mind, I chose for them Tarzan of the Apes, and The Jungle Book, and The Swiss Family Robinson — either Uncle Pat’s children had old fashioned tastes or I don’t know — and told them to specifically study the parts about animals.

“Why animals?” Charlotte wanted to know when we were finally alone in another part of the garden, munching on blackberries.

I told her. It was yesterday’s movies and Uncle Pat’s house that gave me the idea. We should have a Safari. She said it sounded like excellent fun. We could even let the cousins be the animals, and then they did not have to do a lot of running around.

The plan needed refining — not really, but it was a good excuse to go find the strawberry patch and not be bothered with the cousins just yet — and we spent the morning on that. Our major issue of contention was whether we should hunt — me — or take pictures of the animals — Charlotte, who was surprisingly not gory for a bully and Veela and a lover of bugs. She said she had recently watched Bambi and would prefer not to orphan any little animals even in her imagination. Then we convinced the house-elves to let us have our lunch as a picnic outside, afraid that once the two cousins went inside, we wouldn’t be able to get them out again.

We had a feast under the netting, and it halfway felt like we were on Safari already. Jack looked very interested when he heard our plan. Jane had two pink spots on her cheeks, and Charlotte and I congratulated ourselves that the fresh air was probably going to make her healthy before the day was over.

After lunch, we started to set up the garden. For animals, we took pillows from our beds and put rugs over them. Uncle Pat had too many animal hides all over the house; you couldn’t walk or you’d step on a Nundu or a Bengal Tiger, or a Leucrotta next to zebra. It was a mix of magical and muggle animals, and he swore he had shot them all. There were way too many animal heads in his study also, and magical taxidermy had them move their eyes to follow you, and sometimes they even made sounds, so we tended to keep out of there. Besides the animals, his house was a real treasure trove of things he brought from all over the world, and most of the rooms were specialised: there was a Chinese room, an Indian room, an African one, and more. We haven’t been inside all of them, so I don’t know how many.

By this time, Jack got bored and came out from behind the bushes; he was interested in helping and said he knew how to fold origami birds that we could hang in the trees. We found some old newspapers for him in the adults’ sitting room, and Charlotte brought all the paint from the nursery. We set him to work while we took care of the rest of the animals.

Jack was really skilled at folding paper, and soon we had trees full of Fwoopers and Phoenixes with very real looking tails, all of which we hung with pieces of string. (My wand had been taken away by Angry Bat a few weeks ago, and I won’t tell you why, but I had yet to get it back or we could have done sticking charms instead.)

We were on a farm, so we didn’t have to just stick with pillows. We brought the rabbits from their pens, and to make them more exciting, we decided to paint them to look like different animals. Don’t worry, we made sure the paint was safe. I ate a bit of the red colour, and we waited ten minutes to see if I would get sick before we painted any of them.

Most of the magical animals we knew had claws and tusks and horns, so Jack cut and painted paper that we fastened onto the rabbits with leftover string. We turned the rabbits into Bandicoots and Erumpents. Charlotte brought some chickens that we turned into Snallygasters, which was a bird-snake type of animal, and Swooping Evils, which was an enormous butterfly with a wolf-like skull that needed lots of patience to fix on a chicken. We fed it grain to keep it happy.

By this time, we were boiling under the sun, sweaty, and having the best time. Charlotte had the bright idea to change into her swimsuit, and I went to get my trunks. It stood to reason that if you were dressed for swimming that you needed water so we brought the hose and stuck it in a rockery to make a waterfall, turning the faucet open wide. It sprayed high up in the air and came down everywhere. To stop it from making a pond — we were thinking of Jack and Jane, who got sick next to ponds — we dug a channel over the lawn to make a river and soon had a good stream going. We directed it to the vegetable patch so as not to waste water.

Jack got excited, and since he didn’t have swimming trunks, he removed his shirt and shoes and rolled up his pants to help us dig. We were doing a good job of teaching him to play. We also completely forgot about Jane.

Now, since Dad asked, I didn’t think any of what we were doing was wrong up to now. No animals were harmed, though some chickens escaped and were never seen again, and some rabbits got into the vegetable patch, which made the elves upset at the loss of their spinach, and we only used stuff that was in the public areas of the house. I mean, we were allowed to walk over the animal rugs, so it was fair use, right?

But the bit that was ‘not so good’ came now, and it was because of the stream. I had seen a pink flamingo in a glass case in the African room, and thought it would look perfect in the water. What was a river without animals? I will admit that I should have asked before we opened the case and borrowed it. And the beaver. Because why stop at one? And the Platypus. And the Hodag with its frog-head, which was perfect for streams. And the Dugbog, which looked like a piece of wood anyway, you could barely see its teeth. And some mounted fish which we unmounted — you got the idea, right? Why didn’t I think it was bad? Because it was not as if we were going to break it, spells such as Reparo’s existed, we were not stealing it either, and I was sure Uncle Pat would have said yes if we asked. Turned out I was wrong. I now know better.

All of the taxidermied animals blinked and moved, and some even made sounds — which was creepy in a house but worked very well for our purposes. We agreed that we were ready. We had yet to decide if we would hunt them or just sneak up to them and take a picture — really, Charlotte, it was the most boring idea — but in the meantime Jack was fully into the game. He wanted to be a Curupira. They were dwarves that protected all animals and lived in Brazil, according to him. They also had red hair, and their feet were backwards.

We could do nothing about the feet, and our red paint was finished, but Charlotte’s mother invented cosmetics and was working on an infinite lipstick that was bright red, and she went gamely to get it. We rubbed it all over Jack’s hair, and since none of us were sure of the Curupira’s skin colour, we rubbed it all over his chest, arms, and his back also. Luckily it was infinite, and we had more than enough. It meant our hands were red, and we tried to wash it in the waterfall, but the colour stuck. (It was then that Charlotte remembered that the lipstick was a test sample and not only infinite — not really, we managed to use most of it — but also waterproof, and stay-fast. It stayed on for exactly a week; her mother had yet to find a spell or ingredient to remove it before it wore off on its own.)

Anyway, what was done, was done. There was no use crying about it, and we continued with our game.

I still wanted to hunt, and we went back into the house to fetch a spear. Charlotte gave up on me and decided to be an animal, the biggest one yet to teach the hunter a lesson. We would have a fight to the death.

Charlotte found a Graphorn skin, which was huge. If you want you can think of the Graphorn as a magical buffalo that fought back, it was grey and purple with a humped back and had very long and sharp golden horns, its skin was tougher than that of a dragon and it was fearsome when mad. Mountain Trolls sometimes rode them, just to give you an idea of the size of them, and you could barely see Charlotte under it. The Charlotte-Graphorn stamped its feet and growled, and I thought it was wicked scary. Our Curupira hid behind me and yelled at me to kill it, so I raised my spear bravely.

Jane chose that moment to come out from behind the bushes, yawning and wiping her eyes. Her screams were something else. I once heard the mermen’s screechy talk above the water, and it was that but a thousand times worse. She pointed at the growling Charlotte-Graphorn, jabbered something that did not sound like normal words, and then she sank to the ground.

“Jane!” Jack shouted and rushed to her.

I don’t think Charlotte could hear or see anything under the skin because she just continued to growl and shake about, so it was up to me to go find out if we had killed Jane. Our cousin looked awfully white, and I couldn’t see if she was breathing. Jack was crying, and I feared that boded nothing good; after all, he was an expert in diseases, and if the experts were crying then you should probably prepare for the worst. I didn’t relish the idea of touching a dead body, cousin or not, so I jabbed her gently with the spear.

Behind us, because sometimes the universe just liked to mess with me, a loud ‘crack’ sounded, followed shortly by more of the same, announcing the untimely arrival of our family. That was the moment I realised that things were not looking so good for us. I closed my eyes and wished very hard for it to be some of our other cousins finally arriving, and not the group that included my most loved parent bringing treats that would be eaten in front of me.

I turned to see.

The same group that had left the house this morning in a buzz of excitement stood there, stupefied. Our waterfall sprayed gentle drops on the alien hats.

Jack and Jane’s mum screamed.

Uncle Pat, the closest to us, regained his senses first as befitting a military man. Cursing fit to wake the dead, he raised his cane, and Dad cast a Stupefy on him, and Uncle Alain cast a Leviosa, and he never hit the ground or me. Jack and Jane’s parents rushed to Jane, and I stood aside to let them revive her or mourn her, whichever it might be.

“ _Albus_ ,” Dad hissed.

The End.

* * *

PS. I said it was the end, but life went on, and we apologised for taking the stuff without permission but not for playing, and Uncle Pat apologised for nearly whacking me over the head but not for being angry, and went to drink one of Dad's special potions. And I just remembered I hadn't said anything about Jane. In case you were worried, it was just a fainting spell. And now that I am telling you things anyway, I will also inform you that Charlotte and I were grounded to the nursery until our older cousins came and promised to keep an eye on us. It was three days!


End file.
